with language from the March on Washington Speech and the Letter from Birmingham Jail
Again we must learn how the destiny
of one citizen is the destiny of all.
We must learn we cannot walk alone.
The American dream of liberty
and justice for all is tarnished and torn
in the name of making our country great.
Where is our beacon? How many
deaths will it take? How much horror?
How much ache? Where is our dignity?
Where is our discipline? Where does
the dream still live? Is it in the icy streets
of Minnesota? In detention cells?
In the bare feet of the monks walking
our highways? In the hand-painted
protest signs all across America
proclaiming “We the People?”
Is the dream still alive in the gaps left
in government documents where words
have been banned, words such as “diversity,
woman, Native American, disparity,
inclusiveness, Black, equality, Hispanic,
oppression, community and immigrants?”
Is the dream in red blood in the snow?
In dried blood on the street? In voting booths?
In hope? Dr. King, you taught us we need not
be saints to make a difference. That like you,
we must show up frustrated and flawed as we are.
That freedom “must be demanded
by the oppressed.” Where is the dream?
Where does it live? How might it rise up
in our streets, recalibrate our minds,
and resonate like an anthem
ringing true in our chests?
Posts Tagged ‘America’
Dear Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged America, citizen, dream, Martin Luther King on January 19, 2026| 6 Comments »
Filling in the Bubble on the Ballot
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged America, election, reproductive rights, voting, women's rights on October 28, 2024| 9 Comments »
I imagine the small oval
is the center of a flower
that I link through black ink
to the life of my daughter
and her daughter and her daughter
and their bodies and their voices,
and their choices and their power;
it’s a pool I fill with hope,
it’s a note in a rising tune,
a pupil widening in the dark,
a moon that I make new.
Dear America,
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged America, citizen, patriotism on July 3, 2024| 10 Comments »
Dear America,
today I will parade
not on your main streets
but mostly alone amongst
your aspen groves,
will praise your purple
mountain’s majesty,
your scarlet gilia,
your vast blue spruce.
I will praise the public land
beneath my feet
where someday soon
hawk’s wings will rise
from untouched duff,
and I will glory in
your spacious skies,
how quiet they can be.
America, just today
one of your sons
arrived with a giant
bouquet of rhubarb
he cut from his own wild yard—
a small proof of what
your finest citizens do—
find ways to support
other citizens,
no matter their color,
no matter their stripes.
America, in my one-woman
parade, with every step,
I am cheering for you.
One Interdependence
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged America, independence day, service on July 4, 2022| 4 Comments »
rummaging in my heart—
a thread worn flag, a scrap of anthem,
a rousing desire to serve
Dear America,
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged America, American Flag, community, election, identity, United States of America on November 6, 2020| 8 Comments »
I am your daughter.
I have marched in your main street parades,
and in my yard I fly your flag.
I pledge allegiance and sing your anthem.
My uncle and grandfather fought in your wars.
My other grandfather came to your shores
as a young boy and stayed to raise your powerlines.
I climb your mountains and work your soil
and pick up trash on your highways.
I love you, America.
I vote in your polls and raise your children
and volunteer in your schools.
And because you are America,
I pay your taxes and call my senators
and protest in your streets.
I read your poets, relearn your history,
travel your back roads and cheer your teams.
You made me, America.
And I pray for you. And I pray in the way I choose to pray
because we can do that in America.
America, did we forget
our differences are what make us great?
Remember, America, the dream!
The wind is fierce today,
and I love the way it inspires the flag to wave into life.
Whatever is fierce around us is an invitation
to show up. Whatever is difficult
is a call to bring our best.
Whatever is uncertain is a chance
to be clearer in our thoughts, more generous in our speech.
America, it’s not a president
that makes our country great—
it’s us. How we treat each other.
How we meet our mistakes.
How we become the wind that raises the flag.
How our own hearts must be the home of the brave.
Dear America,
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged America, potential, sunflowers, United States of America on July 3, 2020| 6 Comments »
For your birthday, I’m sending you
the sunflowers in my garden,
which is to say, I send you
something unfinished,
something with so much room
left to grow.
America, I send you
the space above the sunflowers
a space they will reach into.
There is so much promise
of beauty in you, America,
so much blossoming yet to do.
America, you’re right if you think this is symbolic.
So I send you the sunflower’s roots, too.
We all know what happens without them.
America, here’s what I most want to say—
I believe in you, America, and all the hands
that tend your soil. Happy Birthday.
It’s time to get out of your own shade.
Happy Birthday. You’ve got this.
Home of the brave.
Follow the Lead
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged America, pencil, poem, poetry, reading, unity on February 2, 2018| 5 Comments »
a
single
pencil
can
make
a
line
thirty-
five
miles
long,
and
I
wonder
how
many
miles
of
poems
per
pencil—
and
wouldn’t
it
be
amazing
to
have
poems
scrawled
all
across
America—
323.1
million
pencils
worth—
all
of
them
sharpened
not
to
point
at
each
other
but
to
write
the
words
that
must
be
said,
telling
our
stories
and
leading
us
in
looping
lines
ever
closer
to
each
other
Dear America,
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged America, pledge of allegiance, poem, poetry on January 2, 2017| 1 Comment »
When I was a girl, I learned to pledge allegiance
to your flag. I remember saying the words
in school every morning, led by a teacher’s voice
made tinny by the loudspeaker.
I stood behind my desk, small hand on my heart,
and I said the rote words
not because I understood them,
not because I meant them, but because
that is what we did—like brushing
our teeth before bed or like kneeling in church
when everyone else kneels, or like saying
I’m fine when someone asks How are you.
America, I don’t remember when it was
I began to cry each time I say the pledge,
my throat tight, my lips quivering.
Now, I feel the weight of every word,
imagine all the blood that is lost for you,
imagine how beautiful your dream is,
know how blemished it’s become.
America, are you possible? America,
I am with those who believe in you.
America, here is my voice, here
are my hands. Use them. I don’t know
where to start except to offer you my love
and mean it. America, when will we learn
we are all in this together?